Raze
by Firedawn'd
Summary: Years after the Second War of the Titans, Legends were told of how Percy Jackson - instead of fighting his enemy, trusted him even if he betrayed them more times that they could count. His fatal flaw turned merit. But what if that wasn't what happened? What if Percy didn't give Luke the knife? AU.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

* * *

 _x_

 _Even now, I stare at the damp, withered and torn pieces of paper, its once white colour now tinted dark yellow with splatters of dried red, its familiar musty aroma mixed with distinct odours, one I can tell from anywhere even if my senses are diminishing with my passing age. My shaking, wrinkled fingers hold the old papers as if it is a relic, which in some ways, it is._

 _Heroes… they speak legacies of their deeds, they crow about the ways that they will be honoured, they tell the next generation on how they will be, forever and eternally remembered._

 _But a few hundred years later - perhaps even a decade later, I assure you that no one will be able to even recall their names, even if they had built hundreds of monuments honouring themselves, even if they had put their names in thousands of legends, to be passed on to the next generation of youth._

 _Maybe they had done something worthy to be remembered in their life - but those who are usually do not boast; modestly do not tell their tales; and because of that we forget their legacies. We remember the crude; the selfish; the hated — and not the loved; the cherished; or the appreciated._

 _And because of that, we will never know. Usually, it is those who do not deserve to be remembered get remembered, their goals and achievements in life becoming examples of what one shouldn't do._

 _My old age torments me. My life is diminishing like a passing, fading ember — what once had burned so brightly, with impulse and discipline and desire has to come to a silent end._

 _My journeys, my goals, my achievements — everything I've done is passed on, is being passed on to the younger generation as I write. It is hard to imagine me - a legacy! Though I had never asked for this, nor do I ever want this. They may say that I had done great things — things that helped to shape the world herself — but in my heart, I know that I had not. They were just writing down my multiple failures, all my rash decisions that had caused a life or two, my imperfectness._

 _So, as my clock keeps ticking, as the hands keep moving - I will write about someone — somebody who does deserve to be remembered for their deeds — somebody who should be remembered for all they had done, all they had sacrificed to help shape this world… but had been forgotten, along with his companions in favour for a new world to be built, leaving behind the horrors of the last._

 _My hands tremble as I transcribe their memoirs, written down hastily in pieces of broken paper. I fear that my shaking will cause the ink to splatter, but that is the least of my worries for now. I am the only one that remembers._

 _For now, I will transcribe the papers that I had found during my many scavengings. I can only hope that they will be remembered, but what the future generation does and what they do remember is not in my hands._

 _For now, I will keep transcribing. Until my last breath is taken, or until the clock stops ticking._

… _Who am I? I am Jason Grace. And this is the story of Percy Jackson and the goddess Artemis, who has saved us all from a fate darker than death._

* * *

A/N: Well, surprise!

This AU is about what if Percy didn't give Luke the knife. I'm interested in seeing if anyone is interested. This is a bit of a test-run - and please review and tell me whether if you think I should continue or not!

Pairing is Percy/Artemis, with respect to Percy/Annabeth.

Reviews are needed to keep the old man transcribing…


	2. Wrong Choice

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

* * *

x

 _Annabeth stared at the figures before her — so close, and yet so far away. Her vision threatening to dim any moment, she saw Percy, standing over the crouching figure of Luke, burning with yellow light as if he would dissolve any second._

 _Her dagger wasn't in her line of vision, but she knew that it was in Percy's hands, waiting for a decision to be made._

 _It was his choice. His decision. One that she, nor Grover, nor anyone could influence._

 _She could only hope that he chose the right one._

 _x_

Percy stood over Luke in the throne room, dagger in hand. His heart was beating rapidly not only from the fight he just endured, but also from the turmoil of emotions — uncertainty, fear, anger, alarm.

''Give me the blade, Percy,'' he croaked.

He knew his friends were behind him. They trusted him to make the right decision.

 _But what if there was_ no _right decision? What if this was another cruel trick of the Fates?_

He stole a glance at the writhing image of Luke. His aura—or Kronos's, he couldn't tell—was flickering with upset yellow light, and Luke's face was caked with sweat. A smell of ozone filled the room, as he wrinkled his nose.

The place was a mess—thrones stashed aside, forgotten at one side of the room. Most were in a bad condition, some even missing handles and legs. Zeus's throne, in particular, was demolished—the lightning-holder, for example—once strapped proudly to the throne—was broken and thrown carelessly aside, now residing amongst the rubble. Percy didn't think that Zeus would like that very much. He knew that if the thrones were destroyed utterly, the gods would slowly fade among it. Hestia's hearth was ransacked, its fire flickering and threatening to die any second. Rubble filled the room. Smoke blew in the utterly trashed room, lighting a poor, sad atmosphere— completely unfit for a king, let alone gods and goddesses.

He and Luke stood in the centre of the throne room, his blade in hand, ready to make a decision. He was dimly aware of the fact that Annabeth was behind him, unconscious, Grover tending to her with his Woodland Magic.

Luke's words echoed in his mind. _Give me the blade, Percy._

In his mind, Percy thought about Athena's words, how his fatal flaw was loyalty, or how all his friends were depending on him to make the right choice, or the line from the Prophecy; _a single choice shall end his days._

What if he was just handing his enemy the sword? What if —his choice— to give Luke the knife ended his days?

He remembered Athena's words. _Your fatal flaw is loyalty, Perseus. You would rather let the whole world rot than to save your friends. This, is very, very dangerous, especially with you being the prophecy child…_

It was true. Percy would put the whole world in danger to help his friends. But this was Luke. Luke, whom has betrayed them a thousand times over. Luke, whom pretended to be their friend but only to betray them once the time was right. Luke… whom couldn't be trusted.

Luke gasped, his eyes flickering from sky-blue to golden. His whole body criss-crossed with rays of light like the window-shards of a cathedral seeing dawn. But unlike a cathedral, his body was the window and the dawn was Kronos.

Luke groaned, as if each ray hurt. ''Percy.. knife… got no time..''

Percy wanted to trust Luke. He really did. Annabeth trusted him. Grover trusted him. Thalia trusted him too, once.

 _But then he betrayed them. He turned their backs on them. You can't possibly trust him, Percy._

Athena's words echoed in his mind a thousand times over. _Your fatal flaw is personal loyalty. You would put the whole world in danger to save your friends._

Percy heaved a breath. He was tired beyond measure, and yet…

 _A single choice shall end his days._ He heard the Fates repeating that single line over, and over again, the tiny string being snipped…

A single choice… It was his decision that _he_ was making, right now. He was going to die on his 16th birthday anyway. So why did it matter? He knew that the Fates were cruel. But… how was, how _could_ he hand over the knife to Luke, not knowing if it was the correct decision or not, not knowing if it would end in perseverance or raze? Not to even mention the countless times he'd betrayed them, over and over again?

His gut told him yes, hand over the knife. Trust Luke. His brain told him no, he couldn't possibly be _this_ stupid, to fall to the weavings of trickery from the Fates.

 _Hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap…_

His soul. So why hasn't it happened yet?

 _Because it was going to happen… right now._

How was he going to hand over the knife, knowing that it would only lead to his death? He knew that he would die during his 16th year, but it was in his human instincts to survive.

So he refused.

The blade clattered to the ground, sparks emitting as it scraped the marble floor.

Luke smiled—though it was not of blame nor bitter—it was of regret, but dying understanding seemed to spark in his eyes. Beads of sweat rolled down from his forehead, as the rays of light and the glowing of his body became more frequent in pattern and strength….

After that, it became a rollercoaster of events—he couldn't remember what happened, at least not clearly. He heard Luke scream (in pain or delight he didn't know), as the blinding light grew even brighter. He heard Grover yelp and Annabeth shriek in fear. He thought he heard the demigods rallying, determined to make a stand. He thought he saw visions of gods, one after another, falling prey to Typhon. He thought he saw the Empire State Building being overwhelmed by the sheer amount of monsters. He thought he saw Kronos, laughing, laughing, and laughing..

x

Percy awoke with a start, his breathing laboured. Rubbing his blurry eyes with his fingers, he sat up. As his surroundings became more apparent, his mind was thrust back to Luke.

 _One choice shall end his days. Luke. Kronos. The knife._

 _Oh gods, the knife…_

 _Please let it be just a bad dream.._

He tried to get up, but promptly fell back down. His knees were shaking as if it was made out of jelly, and he leaned against a boulder for support. He eventually found the strength to stand, and he did. His heart was beating at rates that would've surpassed heart monitors. He shuddered, as the barrage of memories assaulted him…

Suddenly, he was acutely aware he was underwater.

He didn't realise it earlier because, well, he could breathe underwater. But now, awake and ready, Percy was surprised that he hadn't noticed it earlier. There were usually some subtle changes when he was underwater—for instance, feeling the unbridled power of the sea, which was sometimes calm, but nevertheless anyone could feel it whirring and vibrating with energy—the power of which could drown an entire city if it wanted to. Or else he might've heard the many whistles and clicks or shrills of the sea creatures, communicating louder and shriller than your average gossiper. Or feeling the rage or the fury of the sea whenever Poseidon was angry, its waves roaring and swirling into tornadoes of the sea. Whatever the state of the sea was, no matter how calm or angry… still, it was there.

But… it was gone.

Percy felt a little disturbed, but let it go. As Annabeth would put it, there was no use mulling over something that was lost, before _he_ became lost. Better get up and figure out the answers himself.

Suddenly, he felt a pang in his chest. _Annabeth._ Were she still alive? Was his friends? Where was his mother and Paul?

 _Calm down,_ he chided himself. _Thoughts aside, actions first. Don't lose yourself in thoughts._

He took a glance at his surroundings. Almost immediately, he stumbled _away,_ and taken aback, he stared at the scene open-mouthed in surprise. The water was murky, colours a tenfold deeper than stilled rivers. It was murky dark, as if tainted with something... or by someone…

How long had he lied there, unconscious and underwater, unaware of his surroundings, in the bottom of the sea floor?

He rubbed his eyes, to make sure he was seeing clearly. He was. And that ''boulder'' that he leant on for support… it was a reef of corals, but instead of the bright, fresh and lively coral he was used to being within Poseidon's sphere of influence, the cluster of corals were black and decayed and frozen in a angle of terror, as if an explosion shocked it to death…

Percy took a few steps backwards, momentarily stunned by the realisation. It was then in the distance, when he thought he saw — no, he _saw_ a misty figure in the distance. As he peered closer, though, he realised that it wasn't just _any figure_.

 _First stop_ , he thought. _Poseidon's Sea Palace._

 _x_

He didn't want to go. Yes, he was afraid, and he was almost afraid to admit it. He was afraid of what he might find. He was afraid of what he might see. Afraid of what he might discover.

He felt like he was back in Manhattan, in the throne room of the gods, facing Kronos— _no, Luke—_ and his inevitable destiny…

But it was like a calling—a beckoning that he couldn't resist. His brain told him no—told him to run away from the dangers and to find a safe place, a safe haven to stay in.

 _But to where, young Demigod? You'll soon see that there is no where else you can go, no more safe havens… Mount Olympus itself is reduced to rubble, and you will see the destruction that we caused.. because of you. We must thank you, for all the service you've done for us… you've made our job a lot easier. Just come out of hiding, Demigod, and we'll give you your ''safe haven''. I'll gladly finish you off, and you can go join your friends. It's a win-win situation, isn't it?_

Percy vigorously shook his head. He was imagining things.

Even if he didn't want to enter Poseidon's palace, he had to find answers, and he knew that Poseidon's Palace was the key to at least one of them. He needed to know what he did. And it was a coward's way to run away from their mistakes.

Finding the determination within him, he continued on his swim to the palace, ignoring the echoing voices that floated in his mind, and the ebbing, murky visions that kept on appearing. _Was he going insane?_

Percy broke into a frantic swim.

 _What are you doing, young one? I believe the surface is_ upwards, _Demigod_. _There is nowhere safe for you in the sea…_

Percy growled, and frantically tried to blot out the voice in his head. A few seconds later, though, he cleared his throat. ''Excuse me, weirdo-in-my-head, but shut up. Go find someone else to bother. I sincerely hope you go to Tartarus for your help, have a nice day.''

The voice seemed to snarl, and for a moment Percy thought it was gonna retort. _Very well, Perseus Jackson. Have it your way…_

To his relief, the voice disappeared.

Percy felt his pockets for his sword. He took out his pen, and let out a sigh of relief. It was a miracle that Riptide was still with him, not that he'd ever doubted his sword's ability to return into his pocket, just that, well, with all that happened, one could easily expect magical items to stop working.

He glanced forward at his destination. His Dad's Palace wasn't far away, and he was determined to make it there before the sun sets.

x

He stood in front of the massive gates, and feeling the unusually cold water made him shiver. Staring at the gigantic gates, he felt like he was a mouse staring at a Titan.

Percy wasn't sure what to do. He could just swim over the gates, but he was sure that Poseidon put more protection to his palace than just a single gate. He could also try and force the gates open, having the Achilles's Curse and all, but he didn't think that the Curse with a dose of Immortality included strength. Also, he had no way of knowing whether if he still had Achilles' Curse or not, and he had no idea if it had faded after the initial explosion. He didn't want to test it either.

He also doubted that he had the strength force the gates to open. He had an inkling of an idea that had sat in the back of his mind for awhile. It was so ridiculous that he couldn't help but scoff at the mere thought of it… but then again, he was the son of Poseidon after all, so perhaps it might work. No harm in trying, right?

''Uh..'' he mumbled awkwardly. ''Open?''

It was something he'd heard happen in fairy tales, and the second the words went out of his mouth, he instantly regretted it. It was dumb, and he almost half-expected the voice in the head to laugh at him. Instead, with a loud _whoosh_ , the gates creaked as the gates slowly slid open.

Percy decided that he had questioned things enough today. Without a word, he stepped in.

The sight that greeted him beyond the gates was painful. Dust and rubble was spread throughout the palace. The place was ransacked, and his father's throne was in pieces—Oceanus must've had it broken in half, and then proceeded to destroy it. There was fallen columns and the ageless roofs had caved in, and the palace seemed to be only kept intact by a weathered but sturdy column in the centre.

Percy saw the desolation of the palace. He saw the sad remains of Merman and other aquatic sea creatures, who was simply trying to protect the palace but were slaughtered by a series of onslaughts that they couldn't possibly resist. The palace reeked of dead, and he didn't need a son of Hades to smell it. Thousands of broken swords and shields and spears lay tattered across the marble floor, amongst the midst of broken bodies, all their hopes and dreams vanquished in an instant when the war bells rang.

 _Oceanus's forces must've laid waste onto the palace when Poseidon went to help the other Olympians_ , he thought grimly. It was hard to imagine that this was all his fault—but it was.

Because his father agreed to stop Typhon, thousands had to die in the sea god's place.

Percy winced. He didn't want this. This wasn't what he asked his father to sacrifice to help the Olympians. This wasn't… this wasn't what he wanted.

No wonder he didn't feel Poseidon's essence when he was underwater, nor had he felt the sea's power. He remembered Annabeth lecture him about the sea, once—when they tried to find some common interests when he dozed off during the middle of lecture by one of Athena's children. _Oh gods_ , he thought, as the gravity of the situation slammed itself into his dazed head once again. Annabeth. _Where was she? What had happened to her? Was she..?_ No. He couldn't let himself think that. Instead, he concentrated on the words she'd said during the lecture.

 _The Palace of Poseidon mirrors the sea's state, she'd said. Whenever the palace is at its height of power, the water is similarly changed to reflect it._

With it now in ruins, it wasn't a surprise that the sea, too, was in a bad state.

 _So you see now,_ the voice chuckled in his mind, but Percy didn't bother trying to shoo it off. _He_ did _this_ , and there was no turning back.

He didn't want to see the palace any more. Damn the answers he was trying to find. He had to get away.

 _It's no better on the surface, young one…_

He ignored the annoying voice in his mind, and swam away from the destruction. He didn't know where he was going—but he didn't care. Anywhere but here.

 _x_

* * *

 _Son of Poseidon, he made a mistake. Denying it still, but he will know soon enough._

 _There is no correcting, but there is moving on._

 _And so, the young hero, angry and afraid,_

 _Left the ocean in favour for the surface;_

 _Sought out for the truth and secrets untold,_

 _But as the Voice had warned,_

 _No, the surface is no better still._

 _But despite the warnings, he fought on…_

* * *

A/N: So, what did you think? Let me know your thoughts in reviews! I'd really appreciate any Beta Readers, feel free to PM me :D

Reviews are needed to reignite Hestia's hearth...


	3. Surface

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

* * *

It was dark. That was all she knew.

She could dimly make out the darkness of the day, the territory of her domain rising. It was night.

In the darkness, she tried to move but found that she couldn't. Did she feel the distinctive feeling of… pain?

Why did it hurt? It wasn't supposed to hurt.

Her mind was buzzing. She tried to recall what happened but she couldn't. The pain was getting irritating, but she tried to ignore it. That didn't help.

She tried to move her body. Her body didn't respond, but she could hear her heart thumping. It was still working, then.

Then why couldn't she move?

She wanted to growl, to force her body to move. She always pushed her limbs to more than their limits, but they always worked. Her body never failed her, and it shouldn't, not now.

Why didn't it work? It always worked.

She knew that the body was damaged. It was temporary—it always was. Damage always healed. Damage was just that—damage. Just minor problems that were annoying, but did no lasting mark. Perhaps a scar or two that would mutilate her body, but that was it. Wounds healed over time, and she healed faster than the most.

But she felt that this was more than that.

She tried to force her body to move. She concentrated single shard of energy she had in a desperate effort to move, to _feel,_ to do _anything_. The energy she was using to think, the energy that her body was using to heal, _whatever_ minuscule particle she could gather she funnelled into her limp arm.

…

…

With tremendous concentration, she managed to move her arm, just by an inch.

She managed to grin slightly, but all of a sudden she realised that her body was slowly — but steadily going into shock.

 _No! Not this, not right now._

She forced her body to stay conscious, and she felt a wave of relief overcome her as she felt her nerves responding to her commands, fingers tingling as they slowly revoked the feeling of numbness.

She was stirring into consciousness. That was always a good thing.

And then, she remembered.

 _By the gods. Kronos and his allies. They're coming… they're coming! We need to leave now… We need to go!_

And at the same time, her body went slack.

 _x_

All she saw was darkness, and yet—she knew she was awake. The aches on her body were apparent, and whenever she tried to stir, the pain flared as they screamed for her not to move. In the end, she stopped her shifting, and lay back on the clearing—and let the pain flow freely through her limbs.

Where was she? She couldn't remember.

'' _Don't you remember me?'' The mechanical eyes of Orion stared into hers, blank, unyielding. When nothing flickered in recognition, his eyes cast downwards in shame._

It was dark—pure dark. She couldn't see even a single, dancing shadow of her prey, she couldn't see the grounds or the forbidding light of the moon, she couldn't see the stars, she couldn't see _anything_.

'' _The stars, milady… the stars are alight tonight…'' the dying voice of Callisto reverberated painfully within her. Face of a bear long gone, humane features twisted in concentrated pain, a shaft of a spear from her son buried deep within her stomach._

'' _Yes, my huntress…'' she blinked away the tears blurring her eyes. ''Yes, they are. I've never seen stars so bright… I've never seen them shine brighter than the moon.''_

She growled. She forced for her eyelids to open, to see where they were, to see what had happened, to see how they could get out of here... but to her surprise, they didn't open.

'' _There was nothing,'' she remembered hearing Orion recount. ''It was an eternal lapse of darkness, lighted only with memories and creativity.'' A wistful smile lingered on his lips. ''I don't miss that world.''_

She couldn't believe it. Her body had always responded to her every thought, her every command. It couldn't stop now, especially not now.

'' _Fuck the Chimera,'' she growled angrily as Apollo furiously applied ambrosia to the bite wounds. Her nerves paralysed; sweat tainting her forehead and her body numb, she could only grit her teeth and lay there helpless as Apollo tended to her wounds._

 _She was glad it was Apollo and not some other god._

 _She was in pain. She was helpless. She couldn't see._ She let the thoughts envelop her like a blanket. She would be lying if she said she wasn't worried—but her wounds always faded into nothing but scars, fatal injuries into bruises, paralysation into small, mere throbbing numbness. In short, everything healed. She was immortal, and she couldn't die. There was nothing to worry about.

But this time... it seemed different.

Ignoring her mind and her eyes and the excruciating pain, she sat up. Ichor flew back into her mind, the pain intensifying by the second—she dimly felt the sensation of ichor spurting from her wounds. She dimly wondered why the wounds hadn't healed yet.

She reached for her bow and arrows, hoping that those were at least with her. She felt relief surge through her limbs, dulling the pain when she found her weapons beside her. Instinctively, she gathered them from the soft Earth, cradling the arrows like she did a newborn child two millennia ago, like what she'd done a million times on hunts, retrieving arrows from her targets, resharpening the tips that had grown blunt, collecting and reusing the ones that had been broken off…

'' _He's coming!'' She yelled at Eileithyia. Hurriedly passing the blankets towards her, Artemis glanced at her mother one last time, breathing laboured and sweat glistening on her forehead and her stomach expanding at no end._

 _She squeezed her eyes shut, and a few moments later she was cradling a newborn boy, her mother relieved of her pain and Eileithyia celebrating, as the ten Olympian gods descended from their safe place in Olympus to greet the two new Olympians._

She ignored the blinding pain that jerked up from her arm, shrieking at her to stop as she took the bow from the clearing. The aches in her body flared, and she doubted that pushing her body over to their limits helped.

'' _What do you mean, I can't hunt?'' she glared at her brother, who was busy tending to the withered Ares, cheekbones sunken and skin pale from his time in the jar. ''I'm not the one decaying unlike him.''_

 _Ares sent her a meaningful glare, but it was ignored by the Letoides. Apollo's overprotective eyes scanned her bruised self. ''You're running yourself bare, Artemis. Since…'' he hesitated, ''… Orion, you've never paused to rest. Even an immortal has their limits.''_

'' _But it's a war, Apollo,'' she protested. ''The Aloadae threaten to take Olympus for themselves. And they want_ _ **me**_ _as their wife.'' she spat disgusted. ''I won't let them win. I can't.''_

She shifted herself steadily, forcing her shaking legs into a crouch. She was determined to at least stand, to at least defend against her inevitable end… but the tiredness was catching up on her. She knew that she couldn't strain her body any further. She could imagine her eyelids drooping, letting the pain ebb away as she drifted out of consciousness... _no! Not now._

She badly wanted to tell herself to stop, to stop pushing herself in her blind search for arrows, to stop and let the pain wash over her body, to let her body recuperate from their injuries.

But she refused.

Deep inside her, she knew that if she passed out again, she would not wake up.

 _The Embrace of Thanatos_ , she thought. _The Embrace of Death_ was near.

It was impossible, but… she felt it, a phantom aura, dark and twisted and tainted with the unforgiving stench of Death. Immortality wasn't going to stop him. He was going to come. She couldn't cheat Death, but she wasn't going to go out defenseless without a fight, either.

She grunted and ignored the increasing bursts of pain coming from her body all over, as she reached for her arrows. She felt her arms getting heavier by the second, legs struggling in its crouch, body becoming more unresponsive to her commands with every arrow. Breathing heavy, sheer exhaustion felt to overcome her like a tidal wave.

 _It doesn't matter. Let go, and stop fighting. He will eventually come, and you will eventually tire. Why does it matter?_

She could almost imagine Death… a peaceful sleep, where she could finally forget about her aching wounds that tormented her and let Death wash over her. Let go.

She imagined seeing her huntresses in Elysium, finally rejoicing with their mistress. She imagined seeing Orion, his crooked grin and his defined muscles, welcoming her into hell's haven—she imagined seeing Zoe, a silver bow in her hand as the lieutenant greeted her leader—and she imagined seeing Callisto, as she welcomed her into her arms and she apologised for a thousand times and a thousand times more.

But in Elysium there was no moon to see at night.

The images morphed, all too quickly. Orion's bloodstained dagger, a silver arrow protruding from his forehead, face frozen in a scream that never sounded. Zoe Nightshade, impaled by her father, her dying words to see the stars that never existed in Elysium. Callisto, a roaring bear, scorned by Artemis and speared and feasted on by her son, living under the Fields of Punishment she never deserved.

No. That wasn't the world she wanted to go to.

She winced. The pain was becoming unbearable now—her thoughts were muddled, her brain registering nothing but pain. She could almost feel the red flashes behind her eyes, spots spinning as her body tried to comprehend the pain.

She growled, and in response—in one jerky movement, dragged her limbs forward. She wasn't gonna give up. She _couldn't give up_.

She had to live for her hunters.

First things first. Her wounds.

She needed to make a tourniquet. She could tell that at least one artery in her arm was bleeding severely, and contributed to the worst ichor flow. But to do that, she needed an arrow shaft. She desperately gripped her bow tightly, and drawing her hand another inch forward, she felt something cold—another arrow tip.

She grasped the arrow tip, and held it in a closed fist. Almost instantly, her hand exploded with pain, and she realised that the tip was digging into her palm. She internally cursed herself for the stupid mistake. She didn't need more pain inflicted upon her weak self, especially with being so close to Death that the stench of his aura nauseated her.

The world felt to spin, and her head throbbed with intangible agony. She let the arrowhead drop to the moist grass, and she almost smiled in satisfaction, but the movement only made her wounds scream and her dark vision spiral.

A wet cough. Her tongue tasted metallic with ichor. She forced herself to continue, for if there was a broken arrowhead meant the shaft was near—and she was right. She felt the worn wood as she ran her fingers over the shaft, pricking her finger on the split ends but she didn't care. She found it.

She tried to take it... but felt something warm underneath. A warmth she was probably not very familiar with, but she would know his aura by heart.

So Apollo was with her. The irony of her situation almost made her laugh—but she didn't need wet ichor flowing into her lungs. Just by touching him, she could feel her wounds closing up, the pain retreating… the scent of Death drawing further away every passing second. His healing aura flowing upon hers, the quiet mending and his welcoming warmth almost made her feel at peace. For once, she thanked her obnoxious brother.

He must've been unconscious—because he didn't make the slightest movement, a single sound, which was unlike of him. However, his protective aura surged through her body, as if he were awake. Usually, she would playfully berate him whenever he became over-protective, fully knowing that she could protect herself just fine. But this time, she could use it. Knowing that she was safe, she lay back down on the soft grass, her bow and arrows safe by her side—ready for any sudden fights, any silent attacks.

It was like before… but this time, she let her body drift off to its distant rest.

 _x_

Percy wandered aimlessly in Manhattan. He surfaced on Manhattan shore, and… well, he didn't really have a 'set goal' in mind. He just wanted to get out of the sea, and now he did, he realised that the voice in his mind was right.

There were burning buildings everywhere. Some were partially destroyed, and smoke spewed everywhere. Titans lumbered across the streets, the pavement half-cracked from the sheer size of their strength. He sometimes had to scurry away from them before they stepped onto him. To them, humans were ants, and their lives were worthless.

He was dazed. He almost couldn't believe it, but he knew it had happened. Kronos had taken over Manhattan. The Titans had won the war, and the world was suffering under their rule. The gods had lost, and now the Titans had them captive, alive or dead he didn't know.

The memory was fuzzy at first, but now it was as clear as day. Why didn't he trust Luke? He knew that he was _somewhere_ , _anywhere_ deep within the dead body that Kronos possessed… he knew that Luke was in there, _fighting_ for a chance to live… fighting for a chance to stop Kronos once and for all.

 _Why didn't he give Luke the knife?_ He cursed his idiocy. The prophecy proclaimed that he was going to die anyway, so why did it matter? But now here he was, still alive… and Kronos's forces prowl the streets. His friends were gone, and the gods more dead than alive. He had to leave. He had to get away. Gods, he had to get away from this... _nightmare_.

 _Snap out of it,_ he thought to himself. What would Annabeth do in this situation?

She'll assess the situation, she'll use her wits to collect information and formulate a plan. Then, she'll use that plan to make things right.

 _Okay,_ Percy thought. _Then do that._

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tavern—made out of redwood, it was a surprise that it hadn't caught on fire like the other buildings had. It looked like a cottage, but unlike a cottage it was huge—he would be better off describing it as a mansion. The entrance was large, large enough for Titans to enter and do whatever they did inside.

Now, just how he could get inside…

 _x_

Percy carefully crept on the attic beams. He tried his best not to make the slightest sound—if he did, the Titans would notice… and he doubted that that'll be a good thing, even if he did bear Achilles' Curse.

(Did he still have Achilles' Curse? What if it had faded in the explosion? He didn't want to test it out.)

He was in a tavern—a bar. The putrid smell of wine was strong, and even equipped with years of resistance with Gabe and his alcohol was incomparable to… this. Percy would've pinched his nose if he wasn't balancing on an attic beam.

It was noisy downstairs, and he heard the many _clinks_ of glasses and the occasional sound of something shattering. It was hard to make out the voices of the Titans, but he tried his best to eavesdrop.

Just below the beam he was on, he saw two unruly Titans—one directly below him, so he couldn't make out their face, but he could recognise the face of the other. The second Titan was, well, on fire. Literally. He dimly recognised the taut, angry face—Hyperion.

 _Wait, what? T_ he last time he saw this guy was when he and Grover encased him in bark. He had hoped to never see him again, but apparently, the tree wasn't strong enough to hold him... or maybe he had asked for his Titan friends for help to escape.

The smell of burnt wood wafted across his nose as he noticed rows of melted glass cups and various wine bottles smashed on the table, liquid dripping out from its emptied carcasses. Hyperion probably wasn't a very popular guest at parties.

''... That son of Poseidon? Kronos says he's dead.''

''I don't think so, Hyperion. Kronos'll let anything get to his head, and he wants to believe that all the gods' children are dead, even the one that's bathed in the Styx—the son of Poseidon, you speak of. Even though the gods are supposed to be the improved versions of ourselves, _pah_. I personally don't think he's dead—I've sent some troops out to find him…''

Percy's heart was beating in his throat, but he felt like an iron fist was closing around his heart. It was Prometheus's voice, once pitying and somewhat kind turned bitter.

Hyperion's laughter boomed across the bar. ''There's no need for that, Prometheus! Why capture their children… when we have the gods themselves!'' He grinned and slapped Prometheus on the back. Prometheus looked very uncomfortable, and Percy couldn't help but snicker a little at that.

''I know, Hyperion… but we can't wait any longer! Kronos wants to sacrifice them to Gaia on the day he killed his—your—father… but there's no time for that!'' Prometheus said, exasperated. ''We know that they'll escape soon… it's just a matter of _when_. Hell — those two Letoides almost managed to thwart our Lord's plans… but Kronos put them down soon enough,'' he muttered, satisfied.

Hyperion nodded frantically, and slammed his bottle onto the table. It shattered, glass pieces flying everywhere as it did—hitting a few guests as some not-very-friendly glares were thrown at him. He didn't seem to notice them or had either decided to ignore them. Intimidating a Titan of Fire was harder than it looks. Then, he suddenly coughed, droplets of wine spewing everywhere. Needless to say, the glaring only got harder.

''I mean... I agree with you on the Letoides. That was fun. Serves them right for trying to escape,'' Suddenly, he cackled hysterically like it was some sort of joke. A few moments later, he calmed down. ''Not the 'can't wait' parts. We all know that the next Prophecy's began, since... y'know, the first line was fulfilled. But it doesn't matter, considering the fact that Kronos'll kill the Fates themselves! We can dictate our destinies!'' He began to laugh maniacally.

 _Another Prophecy?_ And here he was, hoping that he didn't need to deal with another one in his short life. He almost mimicked Prometheus and let out an exasperated sigh, before remembering where he was.

Prometheus looked more than uncomfortable, as if Hyperion had slapped him on the back two more times. His demeanour stayed the same, but was that a glint of... panic in his eyes? His voice lowered until it was almost a whisper, and Percy had to strain his ears to listen. ''Perhaps other prophecies can be avoided, Hyperion… but not this one. From what I've heard, this Prophecy cannot be stopped, nor manipulated or delayed or changed. It was repeated by all three Oracles; Pythia, the Grove of Dodona, and from sources that I've heard from Krios... even from the Cave of Trophonius.''

Hyperion suddenly seemed to still. He inclined his fiery head, like he was telling Prometheus to indulge him.

Prometheus heaved a deep breath. Did he almost sound wistful? ''The first line, about the Letoides... was fulfilled. Kronos exiled them to die on Earth, but that doesn't change things. The next Great Prophecy is beginning, and Kronos is afraid. He doesn't want to show it, but it's still the same. The second line is up next, and I'm afraid I know what it means... which is why I have to hunt _Perseus Jackson_ down.'' At the end of the sentence, his voice dropped to a whisper.

Percy's heart beat like a hammer. He still remembered Prometheus' kind smile when he left him Pandora's pithos. He claimed to be neutral, to work for the winning side… but he'd heard, at least in myths, that Prometheus had a love for humanity. What happened to that when he joined the Titans?

Hyperion belched. His interest for what Prometheus had to say seemed to have deteriorated to zero. ''Stop being a spoilsport, Prometheus,'' he coughed. ''Even if the Prophecy's this huge deal, so what? We can destroy Pythia, the Grove of Dodona, and the Cave of Trophonius all in one fell swoop. Prophecies isn't our destiny. We can change it!''

If Prometheus wasn't under Percy, he wouldn't've heard him sigh. ''Destroying the messengers won't matter if the prophecies' already foretold,'' Percy heard him mutter.

Suddenly, Prometheus' demeanour seemed to change as he straightened up. ''Anyway, no, Hyperion. 'Destiny' literally means 'something that is set in the inevitable future—something that will and must happen. but I am not here to literate you on that.''

He turned back to Hyperion. Percy's gaze wandered onto him as well. Hyperion was currently flirting with a few disgusted guests. Both he and Prometheus almost let out another sigh.

''Anyway—'' Prometheus said, significantly raising his voice to get Hyperion's attention. ''They're gods. The improved version of us. Why should we expect that they'll stay there like sitting ducks? No. They'll revolt. They'll find a way to break free from their bonds, no matter how _impossible_ Kronos claims it may be. The second Titanomachy will end! They'll be the end of us!''

Hyperion coughed, more wine spewing from his mouth—disgusting the current guest he was flirting with as she switched tables—but despite that, he cracked up. ''Try telling that to Kronos.''

Prometheus sighed. ''You're drinking too much.''

Percy watched the quarrel between the two Titans, wondering when it'll ever end. Staying up here, silent on the beams was entirely against his nature. He tried to shift his position a little, but he heard a slow, painful creak come from one of the wooden beams. He froze.

Prometheus stared above, right at Percy. If Prometheus was surprised, he didn't show it. ''Why don't you join us, Percy? It's not very nice to eavesdrop.''

Percy's heart stopped, but his instincts reacted first. He jumped down from his beam, and at the same time, drew Riptide from his pocket. It immediately sprang into a full-sized blade. The Titans and guests must've recognised it was a lethal weapon because many of them screamed and ran for the exit. ''Sorry for crashing the party!'' he yelled.

Prometheus smiled at him kindly, but there was a cruel spark in his eyes. ''Oh, it's not much of a problem, Percy.''

As Hyperion caught a glance of Percy, his entire mood changed. His fires died down. The grin on his face transformed into a frown. He growled, his whole body suddenly glowing with spurts of fire. His eyes reminded Percy of Ares's—but brighter. He shoved Prometheus roughly aside and eyed Percy angrily.

The partying was over.

The heat that emitted from him was searing, but Percy was determined not to back down from a fight. He steeled his screaming nerves.

''I'll deal with this little upstart!'' he roared, but paused for a moment. He turned to Prometheus. ''This is the one that encased me in that stupid piece of bark, right?''

Prometheus coughed timidly. Percy guessed that he wasn't very used to dealing with angry Titans. ''Uh, no. I believe the one you're trying to find is the satyr… who should've died in that blast already when our Lord was raised.''

Percy felt a turmoil of emotions spin inside him. Grover, dead? It didn't seem possible—it wasn't possible. That wasn't possible. If Grover was dead.. then he should've been, dead too—connected by their Empathy Link.

No. It wasn't possible.

Percy's blood boiled. He couldn't see clearly. It was as if Ares's aura was affecting him again—but this time, it was a thousand times worse.

''Oh,'' Hyperion looked thoughtful, seemingly entirely oblivious to Percy's rage. He ignored Percy, and turned to Prometheus. ''Okay. You can deal with this one. Prove yourself worthy of the ranks of our species, Prometheus—or die trying!'' he said, laughter rippling through the bar. ''Wars are tiring, even for someone as great as me. It's also been quite some time since I flirted with anyone!'' And with that, he casually strolled out from the tavern.

Prometheus let out another exasperated sigh. ''Hyperion, I'm practically a few ranks higher than—you know what, never mind. Also, you just flirted with a girl a few minutes ago.''

Hyperion had already left.

Prometheus turned towards him, somewhat of a piteous look in his eyes. Percy pretended to not notice. ''I truly am sorry for this, Percy. I do not fight, but the situation is dire. Kronos is already doubting my loyalty to him, as _I_ myself am. So...'' He hefted his sheathed blade.

Surprised was an understatement from what Percy was feeling right now. How could a tyrant scare the Titan of Forethought so much that he would follow _orders_ from him when he had vowed not to approach war, to remain neutral and not to fight by both sides? Or worse yet, go against his own morals? He decided not to approach that subject, instead choosing to continue observing Prometheus.

He was looking at him pityingly, but there was a cruel spark to his eyes. ''You are a fine species of human, Percy… but Hyperion wants you dead. We _all_ want you dead. No doubt you have overheard my conversation with Hyperion, and I can't let anyone running around with that information. Besides, _you_ play a part in the Prophecy, and an integral part at that... and we are determined to keep it from happening.'' He unsheathed his blade from its scabbard, revealing a wickedly sharp and shining sword, its hilt studded with jewels.

''I thought that you liked humans. Why don't you take the chance and defy Kronos's orders?'' He said, hoping that it was the correct thing to assume. ''After all, you _created_ humans. You can't turn on them now!''

Prometheus sighed and sheathed his blade. Percy's spirits lifted—that is until he spoke.

''Humans… your species has grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you've all started when I gave you fire.'' Prometheus let out a wistful sigh. ''But still, it doesn't change the fact that your species is disposable. Yes, I like humans… but I've accepted the fact that there is no more hope for them, and so should you.''

''Besides—as you put it, _take the chance_. No, I wouldn't take a chance and defy his orders. I'm the Titan of Forethought. I've thought of what would happen if I decided to betray Kronos many time already… but there's no single outcome that would work. And he is the King of the Universe, Percy. If I defied his orders, where would I go? What would I do? He'll hunt and put me down before I can even utter a single word.''

Percy was struck with a sudden realisation. He finally recognised the tone and voice that was in his head, not very long ago. ''So you were the one who spoke in my head,'' he said.

Prometheus looked mildly amused. A thin line resembling a smile ran across his lips. ''Oh yes, Percy. I tried to warn you… but alas, you didn't listen. You see, _I_ didn't want to hunt you down to kill you. Despite everything, I do care for humans—or at least, however much of you guys are still left—and I'd hoped that you would make the right choice.''

''It's not that,'' Percy growled, his hand in his pocket as he fingered for Riptide. ''You wouldn't warn me for the sake of your conscience. It's something else.''

Prometheus sighed. He began to surround Percy, like a predator stalking its prey. ''Fine. I wanted to save you so you could fulfil the Prophecy. Titans are my kin, but they are no better than the gods. My life—my world and my creation was destroyed for the sake of destruction. I have allied with the gods before because they were more _reasonable._ I want—no, _need_ you to save the gods. It's the only way we can save this world.'' He paused, for a moment, before adding: ''Even if it means my damnation.''

''If you want me to save the world, then step aside,'' Percy said. ''Don't fight me.''

Prometheus' eyes were kind. ''No.''

Percy growled in frustration, his eyes glowing red-hot. ''No? Fight me, then,'' Percy said. ''Or are you too much of a coward? To fight the species you created?''

Prometheus's eyes hardened. His once kind smile turned into a sneer. ''Very well.. if you insist.''

He unsheathed his blade once more. Just as it left its scabbard, Percy heard an almost inaudible click, and the sword suddenly grew twice its side, the tip of the blade hardening and spreading rapidly until the entire blade seemed to be made out of wood—and Percy watched in horror as an edge of silver grew out of the wood.

Moments later, Prometheus wasn't holding the sword anymore. He was holding a Scythe. _Kronos's Scythe_ , he thought.

Prometheus looked at it with mild fascination. ''Interesting, isn't it? I still wonder how such a contraption works.'' He turned towards Percy. ''If you were wondering… no, this isn't Kronos's weapon. He likes to keep it safe and sound on his belt.'' Suddenly, out of the blue — Prometheus swung his scythe—and Percy managed to react just in time, thanks to his ADHD—the scythe missing his head by an inch. Prometheus didn't stop there, however. With blinding speed, the scythe folded back into a sword, and he dashed forward to where Percy was lying and aimed a quick strike at his throat.

Before he could, though, Percy rolled out of the way just as the blade struck downwards, causing Prometheus's sword to slice through the wood. Prometheus growled in irritation, and by the time he managed to free his blade from the wood, Percy had dashed behind him and landed a strike on his unprotected back, and it cut through his skin like paper—and his blade reappeared on the other side—his stomach.

Prometheus howled in more anger than pain, and turned towards him, hate burning in his eyes as he swung his blade in a wide arc, its tip managing to hit Percy's side—but it merely bounced off harmlessly from his body.

Prometheus's eyes widened as he crumpled, now on his knee. He had used up all of his energy on his final attack. ''How—'' he managed.

Percy winced, but he managed to hide it as a shrug. ''Achilles' Curse, remember?'' He pulled the blade out from Prometheus's body, and his form collapsed onto the cold, hard floor.

 _Do not mistake him for dead, Percy._ He thought, his father's words bouncing in his mind. Prometheus, too, was immortal—and this would just bide him some time...

''THERE!'' A male voice yelled. ''THERE'S THE DEMIGOD! GO GET HIM!'' He screamed, followed by the sounds of weapons clashing, choruses of yells and frenzied stomps.

 _Crap,_ he thought. Without another second thought, he ran for the exit.

x

* * *

Again, thanks for reading! :D

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Review for the inspiration fuel, not just for this story but for all those stories out there, and before you know it you can press ''Next'' like no tomorrow. :D


	4. The Goddess

Disclaimer: I _really_ don't own PJO.

* * *

 _x_

Titans weren't quitters, it seems.

Every time Percy thought he had gotten away from the angry crowd, he only stopped to see them coming from another side. When he thought that he could finally rest, the sounds of clashing weapons woke him up from his quick, one-minute break, fast. When he thought that he had found a safe sanctuary, the sound of Titans from the inside just proved him wrong.

Now, he was running down another deserted highway, Titans behind him giving chase. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a slender figure, crouched atop on a building.

''Uh... help, please?'' He yelled at the hooded female figure, but it came off like a question. ''Kinda being chased here?'' He didn't really expect for them to help. After all, he was only giving the Titans another target to hunt.

The figure drew three arrows from their quiver, and fired with rapid succession. They didn't stop there, however. Three arrows turned six, and six to twelve. They kept firing, until finally, the rest of the horde dropped their weapons and fled.

Percy stared at the retreating horde with awe, but after a few moments of admiration, he turned his attention back on the archer. With their hood and unreadable expression, it was hard to tell if they were friend or foe.

The archer had left their crouching position, and had casually and gracefully jumped off the building. They landed hero-style in front of him, and Percy took Riptide from his pocket. Before he could uncap his pen, though, the archer pulled back their hood.

She spoke first. ''Perseus.'' Her eyes were not the usual silver colour, but rather, milky-white. Percy paid no attention to it, however. His eyes widened in disbelief.

''A-Artemis..?'' he managed.

The female figure rolled her white eyes. ''Yes, it is I, Perseus. Were you expecting somebody else?''

Perseus quickly shook his head. He knew better than to offend a god—even a fallen one. ''No.'' But there was one word echoing in his mind. _Annabeth_.

''I don't suppose you came here to join the revolt.'' Percy's eyes jerked up to her face in surprise. _A revolt?_

Artemis sighed. ''You do know little, don't you? Typical.'' She sneered. Without a doubt, the words _of you males_ were on her mind, but somehow, for some reason, she didn't say it. Even her sneer seemed half-hearted. Her face slowly crept back to her original features, cold and unmoving, unattainable. Pity seemed to creep upon her features. ''But then again, I can't blame you for being missing for quite some time..''

Percy was confused. Just how long had he been missing for? He knew about the Titan War, him giving Luke the knife and everything going black… but how long ago was it really?

It felt like ages ago, and it probably was. The memory was still fresh in his mind, though—and he felt a sudden pang in his chest. Where were his mother and Paul? Where was Tyson? Where were all the Demigods? What had happened? _Where was Annabeth?_ Outwardly, he hopefully seemed calm, but internally, he was panic-stricken—but he was determined not to let his worry echo into his features.

Artemis sighed once more. ''You really are oblivious, aren't you?'' For a moment, she seemed ready to scold him... but a moment later, she seemed to have changed her mind, expression thoughtful.

''I guess there's no use into berating you uselessly. I suppose you _could_ be of use… perhaps…'' Percy couldn't read the expression on her face. Her features suddenly softened. ''I understand you are afraid for your Demigod friends and your family... but they, too — have quests of their own. And some others.. well, you'll have to find out yourself. I am no longer a god, but I have to abide by my rules.'' She looked pityingly at him.

Percy's face grew hot. He suddenly became aware of himself and his surroundings. He didn't need pity. He didn't want pity. He didn't want _this_. Artemis, however, was unaware of the change of his appearance. She was glancing over the ruined and aflame buildings, her bow gripped firmly at her side and quiver on her back, hand atop on one of the arrows, ready for any incoming threat - but her expression faraway.

And almost at once, Percy's anger evaporated. It was no time for him to get angry about him and his destiny, nor there was any use complaining about it. This was all his doing. His choice not to give Luke the blade had doomed Olympus. Titans were walking on the streets. Kronos himself had risen and was probably laughing at him - laughing at the stupidness of his decisions, that had caused the downfall of Olympus—laughing at how determined he was to take down the Titans… but ended up failing miserably. Laughing at how all his friends's deaths were in vain.

 _Laughing, Laughing..._

Percy growled, and let loose a guttural roar. Riptide in hand, he struck it down on the pavement, the sheer power of it shaking the earth itself.

Artemis suddenly whirled back to him, surprised. Her eyes were staring blankly ahead, but it was obvious that she felt the force of the blade. Suddenly, Percy finally understood what the white eyes meant, but he didn't dare say.

 _What happened to her eyes?_

He decided not to ask. It was never a good idea to continually upset a god, even more so a fallen one.

The Moon goddess must've felt his staring on her, because she beckoned for him with a gesture of her hand. ''Come,'' she said anxiously, as if she was waiting for something to happen, instincts alerted. ''The Titans may be gone for now, but they will come back with a force that is stronger than ever, and now that they've seen you…'' She hesitated. ''... Well, it is never a good idea to stand out in the open when we are hunted. I know a place.'' With that, she turned and dashed off into an alleyway, not looking back. Even with what she just said, she didn't seem to care if he was following or not.

 _Do you have any better ideas?_ He thought.

Without a further thought, he followed Artemis into the alleyway—and he could only hope that no one was watching.

 _x_

Artemis ran, and didn't show any signs of stopping. Percy panted, trying his best to keep up and ignore the fatigue that was torturing his muscles. ''Are we there yet?'' he tried to yell, but it only came out as a whimper.

She ignored him. What was he expecting? She was the goddess of virginity — amongst other things — and was known to scorn men ever since the beginning of time. _Again, what was he expecting?!_ Ever since Atlas and the prophecy and everything, you'd think that they've already passed the ''hate your species'' thing. Nevertheless, she was a goddess that had a history of hating males. No reason why she would reverse the tradition now.

She rounded another corner, and he struggled to keep up. Sadly, the Achilles' Curse didn't include the _ever useful_ skill of stamina. His ribs ached sorely in protest, but he chose to ignore them like how Artemis was currently ignoring him. After some more turns in the dark alleyway, he saw a blinding light ahead. He averted his eyes from the light and forced his legs to run on. A moment later, he found himself in a clearing.

Where was this?

He was in front of a dingy and dusty — a seemingly abandoned warehouse. No, not a warehouse. He could dimly make out the broken sign plastered on top of the sad building and an all-familiar familiar logo. _Amazon_.

The ADHD part of him wandered off topic, on why Artemis would ever want to go shopping at Amazon. It totally wasn't the time, and besides—you were better off ordering online, anyway.

He shook his head, trying to clear the random thoughts from his mind. Artemis had already headed into the entrance, and he jogged towards the shop, anxious to keep up.

The exterior may have been pleasing, but the interior...

It was dusty, and rubble was everywhere—as if a giant had stomped through, but somehow the roof had remained intact. It reminded him of Poseidon's Palace, once awe-inspiring but now abandoned… and lonely. He winced at the thought and tried to concentrate on any other topic, other than that.

However, his mind must've not been feeling very cooperative today, because his mind instantly wandered to the topic of Annabeth. Where was she? Did… did she survive the blast? Was she... alive?

He must've stopped midway, because Artemis was gazing in the general direction of his figure, apparently annoyed at his ability to run. ''Come on. We must continue. We are not safe, even here.''

Percy wanted to groan, but he knew that that'll just irritate the goddess even more. He reluctantly followed her to a room (thankfully, she didn't start running again). The room was bare and dust spiraled in the room — marks of boxes and tables and remains of rubble filled the room — obviously it was once used, but now abandoned. Artemis didn't seem to notice that, however. Somehow, she made her way to the corner of the room, and she dusted something off. Almost instantly, he heard a beeping sound. Percy almost staggered back in surprise, as a spiral staircase seemed to rise in the midst of nowhere.

Artemis nodded grimly, and started descending the dark and dreary staircase. He glanced at her shadow as she descended into the darkness entirely.

He didn't have any better ideas. He followed.

 _x_

The staircase led to a dimly-lit corridor. It bore similarity to a classroom corridor, more especially to the ones in Goode—but much darker and creepier. He ignored that thought. Not now.

As he, alongside with Artemis wandered down the cold and dark corridors, with their weapons drawn—he felt an eerie sensation creep up his spine, as if he had taken another dip in the Styx.

Suddenly, the dim light bulbs started flickering like in a haunted house, as all of the sudden, almost all at ones—the closed doors that resembled classrooms that he had passed slammed open.

Percy took a deep breath, and gripping the hilt of his blade tighter, he turned around to face the new enemies.

And almost at the very same time, Artemis nocked an arrow from her quiver and shot it at the intruders.

It had veered, off target—missing its mark by a few inches. Percy almost whirled around in surprise, wondering what had distracted the goddess so much that had made her practically miss her target. The flickering lights on the ceiling were still going strong, but they were barely bright enough for them to see their new attackers.

Seconds passed as the unknown assailants closed in. He gripped his sword even tighter, and he saw Artemis do the same with her bow. He could possibly take them down thanks to the Curse that he bore—but the fight in the bar had left him drained, and Artemis wasn't very kind when they ran away from the highway and into the alleyway, with Titans with renewed efforts in pursuit. If he tried to attack... he was outnumbered and weighted down by the fatigue, and the fallen goddess—as powerful as she was, she only had a limited supply of arrows... not to mention that they both couldn't see their attackers, thanks to the horrible lighting.

He scanned their attackers— they were still cloaked by the shadows, but as they drew closer, their weapons became visible, illuminated by a shaft of light.

There were daggers and swords and bows and arrows alike, glinting clearly in the fresh moonlight, steel sharpened like it could easily slice through the tough Minotaur hide. He didn't like their odds.

He prepared to swing Riptide in a wide arc—take down as many as they could, before they got taken down themselves. He brandished his blade—but he never got the chance.

Suddenly, the once unsteady and flickering lights all at once turned steadily back on, as if the power had gone down and it had just finished undergoing repair. Percy blinked—trying to adjust to the sudden burst of light. When his vision cleared, he saw that their assailants were doing the very same, but they seemed even more confused than Percy was.

Their weapons were still there, poised to strike—but when their gazes landed on Percy's face, they looked at each other and him in question, like: _Are you asking us to kill you?_ Realising his situation, he obediently and immediately dropped his sword, and before anyone could protest—kicked it far away, as if in the utmost capitulation—and warily held up both of his hands. Riptide was just far enough to reappear in his pocket—but they didn't need to know that.

Then, he realised that they weren't looking at him—but at Artemis, whose bow was still drawn and arrow nocked. He carefully took a few steps towards her, and hoping that he wouldn't get himself killed for this—tentatively touched her arm, beckoning for her to sheath her loaded bow.

She did. And in the process, he caught the faces of their attackers.

They were all wearing the same type of uniform, somewhat similar to the type that the Hunters of Artemis would don, each and every figure threatening immediate death—but more importantly, they were all _females_.

Percy didn't know why that surprised him the most. He turned towards Artemis, face incredulous. ''Do you know them?'' He hissed. When he got no response, he continued: ''Looks like your Hunters, but some are looking at me like I royally 'hecked up and some others with...'' Was that... _lust_?

At the mention of her Hunters, a flicker of emotion seemed to spread through her detached features—but a moment later, it was gone. ''Then you would be describing the Amazons,'' she said evenly.

''The what, now?''

''The Amazons,'' Artemis repeated, like she was educating a child. ''My brother is with them. I wasn't very sure if they'll help us, but...''

Percy finished off for her, looking on as the circle of Amazons closed in. ''They don't seem really friendly.'' He finished.

Percy fished his pocket for Riptide as Artemis drew her bow and nocked an arrow. He physically and mentally prepared himself as the Amazons drew closer...

''Halt!'' A voice out of nowhere pierced through the thin air. The sheer command in her voice made a few Amazons drop their weapons in surprise. Percy glanced at the newcomer warily, not sure of what to make of it.

A woman casually strolled out of one of the many arched doors, covered in robes that spoke of royalty. Her posture was relaxed but alert, somewhat like in a fighting stance. She had a bow strapped over her back and a quiver of arrows on her belt—no, girdle. Her face looked as if it was carved out of stone—unfamiliar, but the image of her was. Like... like a Queen.

Her gaze was directed at them. ''Lady Artemis,'' she said, taking a curt bow. Artemis nodded in recognition. ''—and Perseus Jackson.'' She stared at him coldly.

'We have much to discuss. My name is Hylla, Queen of the Amazons — and as we speak, the Titans are nearing. Time is wasting, and we do not have any to spare.'' Then, addressing the many Amazonians, she said: ''I thank you for your service, but please, leave us. Our defenses are weakening, and we will need every single member we can spare.''

After the general crowd had wandered off, she glanced at them, gaze calculating. ''So… as is customary, Perseus Jackson… when would you like to be decapitated?''

 _x_

 _The goddess of the Hunt & Maidenhood herself,_

 _And her brother, the Lord of the Sun and Music,_

 _Descend to Earth by the Titan's fitful revenge,_

 _Help they shall, but the secrets kept,_

 _Shall be one's undeserved end..._

* * *

A/N: Reviews needed to stop Hylla from decapitating _anyone_ …


	5. Decapitation 101

Disclaimer: I really don't own PJO.

* * *

Fortunately, he wasn't decapitated.

After a quick chat with Hylla and some subtle convincing skills from Artemis, Hylla decided to hold off the decapitation for now. Instead, Percy got to listen as Artemis and Hylla discussed about the best ways to decapitate men.

''I prefer the sword. It is clean and efficient where one simple slit would do. Reduces their suffering too, especially if all they've done was wander into my territory and ask the wrong questions.''

Percy tried not to picture his neck being slit. He was really lucky to have Artemis with him when they entered Hylla's territory.

''Jackalopes are my personal choice. Although the sword is rather efficient, I'd rather the blood not stain my clothes. It also provides them throughout suffering no less than what they deserve. I reserve it for the worst.''

Scratch that. Percy tried not to think about what a certain man-hating goddess would do to him if she felt like his guts were too much to bear.

''I still stand by the sword. Though admittedly, jackalopes sound fun.'' The Amazonian Queen sighed. ''How I wish I could decapitate the heads of the Titans.''

''I second that.''

He stole a quick glance towards Hylla and Artemis, who was still exchanging thoughts on the best ways to disassemble males, distracted. They didn't notice Percy as he quickly ran towards a room, without another backwards glance.

As he entered the room, he thought little of it. The door was identical to the many other lines of doors in the hallway, so Percy assumed that it'll be another Amazon storage centre.

He was wrong.

The room was large—huge, even. It was decorated with white pillars and various products and trophies, maybe the ones that would aid them in their ''world takeover''. With a start, he realised that he'd wandered into the main room—the throne room. It dimly reminded him of the Olympian Council with the twelve thrones, but there was only one in the middle—but it didn't look grand or royal, which was the vibes he got from Olympus. This throne looked sad and isolated in the middle, which made him wonder what the queen felt being in here.

He idly wandered to the centre of the room. As usual, it had a Hearth—the heart.

At least they weren't foreign enough to not have a Hearth, he thought. But then, he wondered about how a person could even reach this Hearth and claim sanctuary, with the whole fortress being so heavily-guarded. He decided that he didn't want to know.

He felt as if he should just follow Artemis and Hylla, but seeing how he was trapped in a male-hating centre, and with his weapons confiscated and the fortress with essentially no-way out… and incase anything goes wrong, or if Hylla changed her mind on decapitating him… well, he couldn't help but try and find some emergency exits that weren't blocked off, right?

Suddenly, as he was inspecting the walls, hoping to find something out-of-the-ordinary, he heard the sound of warm, soft crackling behind him. He whirled around, fearing the worse—but instead, he came face-to-face with the Guardian of the Hearth.

The 9-year old girl dressed in a simple _chiton_ smiled at him in greeting. ''Hello, Percy.''

Eyes widening and stuttering random greetings off the top of his head, he bowed. ''Hestia,'' he managed.

He offhandedly wondered _what_ even was Hestia doing here, considering everything—to how Kronos had taken over Mount Olympus and took upon the mantle of ''King of the Cosmos'', and how he was keeping the gods captive and on constant watch even now, since they were his ''prized rewards''—and was probably torturing them, too. All of this whirled in his head before he even remembered that goddess before him could hear his thoughts.

She apparently did. Her gaze was wistful as she spoke, answering the questions that was brewing in Percy's mind. ''Fortunately, it seems that Kronos has forgotten all about his firstborn. All he cares is about my brothers and sisters and nephews and nieces… so it seems that Dionysus has taken my place.''

She smiled, but her face was pained. Suddenly, Percy felt a surge of overwhelming sympathy for the goddess. She was the goddess of the Hearth, the guardian of Hope. How would she feel that her whole family was captured by Kronos, and feeling like that she couldn't do anything about it? Feeling that she was weak, that she couldn't even protect her family?

She chuckled sadly, her eyes becoming misty. ''Pathetic, is it not? I cannot even protect a single person. Not even my family. And I'm supposed to be the goddess of the Hearth, of home, of family. I failed my duty.''

''But Artemis…''

''Artemis escaped, but at a cost. So did Apollo.'' The goddess of the Hearth sighed, a misty smile on her face. ''

He thought about Artemis' milky eyes. ''W-what happened?''

Hestia sighed, and gave him a wistful smile, as if she was recalling a dream—but instead of a dream, it was a nightmare. 'After Kronos rose, the gods were stripped of their powers and captured. Zeus, Poseidon, Hera and Demeter are under constant watch in Olympus. Artemis, Apollo, Hermes and Athena were forced to hold up the sky. Artemis and Apollo managed to escape, but Kronos found out, tortured them by removing Artemis's sight and Apollo's hearing—'' at this point, Percy heard a mute sob ''—and cast them down to Earth.''

Percy wanted to comfort the goddess, and try to offer some help... but he knew that she was going through something he couldn't possibly understand, or relate to.

''Promise me something, Percy,'' he heard the goddess whisper. Percy turned back to the goddess, and saw a stream of tears run down her face. ''I couldn't save them. But please, _keep them safe_ for me. I've failed my duty as the Guardian of the Hearth. I couldn't protect my family. But I can't fail them too.''

Quietly, he heard himself say: ''I will. I promise.''

With a wave of her hand, flames erupted from the dying hearth. A blast of warmth enveloped the area, and Percy felt the true power of the quiet goddess. When the flames finally died down, Percy saw an object appear in place of where the flames once had been. Hestia picked the object up, and she held out a pithos. Pandora's pithos.

''I would like to return this to you.''

Percy was taken aback. ''But Hope resides best at the Hearth. Why are you handing Hope to me, knowing that I will let it go?''

She sighed. ''It is true that I have kept Hope safe in the flames of the Hearth.. but I have a feeling that you will need her. Humanity needs hope, and so I am handing her back to you. You will not let Hope go this time, I am sure — because you have hope, and when you do, you won't be tempted to give it up again. Keep it safe.''

Percy started to protest, but was cut off by a hand wave from Hestia. She looked tired — so tired — as if the burden was too much to bear.

''How can one guard Hope, when they have none themselves?''

And with a burst of fire, she was gone.

 _x_

''Why do you have that… jar?'' was the first thing he'd gotten from Hylla since he'd casually _strolled_ out of the throne room. ''I believe that you should know better than put your filthy hands on our merchandise.''

Percy decided that the best— _safest_ thing to do was to pretend she wasn't there. After all—if she knew that it was Hope, they would _what_ , put it on Ebay for two hundred thousand? He'd rather not test the odds.

He wasn't very sure what to do. Artemis would obviously side with Hylla — (female squad, right?), and ignore him with every opportunity they've gotten. However… with that conversation he'd had with Hestia, he couldn't help but feel disturbed. How could a goddess—perhaps not a very powerful one, but indeed strong—be so afraid of the Titans that she would give up Hope? Sure, Titans were terrifying... but this was on a whole other level.

There were so many _questions_ , burning in his mind, waiting to be answered. The blurry memories from the Titan War was coming back, but certainly not fast enough.

Fortunately for him, Hylla ignored him and turned back to Artemis, whom started to question her about '' _how she managed to gain such a wide array of merchandise_ '', complete with a lot of boasting from Hylla. Percy clutched pithos tightly in his arms — praying that he wouldn't accidentally slip and crush the jar and its contents (squishing Hope was never a good idea, to begin with).

Instead, he chose to ask something. His thoughts turned back to Prometheus and Hyperion in the bar, when Prometheus ranted about the gods.

 _They'll revolt. They'll find a way to break free from their bonds, no matter how impossible Kronos claims it may be. The second Titanomachy will end! They'll be the end of us!_

''So… just wondering, have there been any revolutions against the Titans? Recently?'' He asked, hoping that it was the right approach.

Hylla's eyes shone with a fierce light that didn't involve male hate. ''If you must know… there's been a new Great Prophecy.''

Percy's eyes widened. _A new Great Prophecy?_ Suddenly, he felt like he ate a bowl too much cereal. His insides was swirling with mixed emotions, ranging from fear to joy and disbelief.

To be fair, he should've known when Prometheus mentioned that it was spoken by all three Oracles. But he didn't grasp its significance till now.

''The Titans are scared, and they're prowling the streets and hunting down any and every mortal daring to speak of it. But it's done no good for them.'' At this, Hylla smiled. ''The whole of Manhattan knows. 'Tis why the revolutions has begun.''

''Really?'' This time, it was Artemis's turn to speak. She seemed interested, even intrigued at the prospect of a new Great Prophecy. Percy tried not to think of the _last_ Great Prophecy he had the luck to be in. It was a disaster.

The Queen of Amazons smiled ruefully at Artemis. ''We know the prophecy from one of our spies. Kinzie. Word-by-word from Prometheus himself, she jotted it all down and escaped without a scratch. Bless her.''

Quietly, Artemis asked: ''Can we see it?''

''Here.''

Hylla unfolded a piece of scrap paper from her pocket. She gave it to Artemis, who took it wordlessly and passed it onto Percy.

''M-me?'' Percy stuttered. And then he almost smacked himself for being an idiot. ''Right. Uhh…''

''Letoides, break free of their bonds they shall,''

''Lieu waters Demigod shall revive,''

''Damned heartbreak one shall endure.''

''Hero's soul _cursed_ blade shall reap.''

''Fall of Titanomachy or keep by choice.''

He stumbled over his words, his nerves and dyslexia tripping him up. He hoped that Artemis still got his general gist of what he said.

''The first two lines were fulfilled.'' Hylla said, jolting him out of his thoughts. ''Kronos's paranoid, but he won't admit it. He'd rather stay all high and mighty pretending that fate won't affect him, but it will.'' she ranted on, determined. Her usual cold, calculatingly regal features was replaced with stark happiness. ''It _has to._ No one can control fate, not even the Lord of Time himself.''

''Letoides, break free of their bonds they shall…'' Percy murmured. Artemis drew a quick breath, like it was something she didn't want to remember.

''And Lieu waters Demigod shall revive…'' Artemis finished for him. Quietly, she said: ''You were dead, Perseus. That was you.''

x

''W-wait...'' Percy stuttered. _Um._ He was pretty sure he hadn't died recently. Or at least he hoped. He didn't recall being in the Underworld or hanging out in the Fields of Punishment… and he didn't intend to anytime soon. ''I'm pretty sure I'm alive.''

Or was he? Did he die after Kronos was summoned, but why did he remember nothing about that?

Ignoring him, Artemis turned towards Hylla. ''This…'' she muttered. ''This is bad. Two prophecy lines have already been fulfilled. It's going too fast. We aren't prepared.''

''Can anyone _please_ give me a debrief around here?'' Percy asked. _Confused_ wasn't the right word to describe him. _What the bloody Hades is happening_ would probably be more appropriate.

Hylla sighed. ''I'm really starting to regret letting this man live.''

Artemis held up a pacifying hand. Stepping towards him with a sigh, she said:

''It's been six months since the Titan War ended.'' Artemis stated coolly. If Percy was surprised, he didn't show it. ''After you made the… wrong choice, Kronos consumed the boy and appeared in all of his _immortal glory._ Perhaps you might've remembered the explosion?''

Percy remembered the coral he'd seen when he was underwater, frozen-dead like it was shell-shocked. Artemis's words rung in his mind. _Wrong choice._ The decision was in his hands, and he made a selfish one. The wrong one. How much he'd wished he could rewind time and take himself back to the moment where he withheld his blade… and berate his former self for it.

''Everything within the sphere of Manhattan was desecrated in seconds. Once he was released, he began to destroy our thrones, where our godly power lied. Severely weakened and nearly powerless, he captured and enslaved us,'' Artemis recounted grimly. ''We escaped, but the other gods didn't. Kronos plans to sacrifice them on the twelfth day of Hekatombaion, which is in…''

''… July the 16th.'' Hylla finished for her. ''The day which Kronos killed his father.''

Suddenly, a searing, burning pain assaulted him. Percy let out a groan, and almost doubled over in pain—but for some reason, a the pain felt… _familiar._ Percy felt a tug inside of his head, like someone was trying to reach him, but it wasn't quite like what happened with Prometheus.

A voice, clear as day, struck through him admist the burning pain.

''Percy? _Percy, can you hear me?''_

 _x_

* * *

A/N: Review for Grover!

Edit: In all seriousness though, thank you for the favs/follows! I can't say anything about reviews yet since I haven't received any recent reviews yet, which isn't really helping motivation atm. :P

This is basically a gigantic rehaul/update, because I've revised and updated accordingly the past few chapters and updated a new one (this one!) I'd really appreciate any feedback, questions or criticisms you might have, I don't bite. :D

I'm not too sure as of now whether if I should reintroduce Percy's friends (ie. Thaila, Nico, etc.) back into the story, so I'll really appreciate your feedback on it! I'm also considering to develop Percy & Artemis as friends rather than a pairing, so let me know if I should do that or not (since imo, they're underrated as friends).

Thank you for reading, and I really appreciate any favs/follows/reviews I receive. Peace!


	6. Titan of the Stars

It was a place of char.

The once-grand Olympus was charred to the bone with dust, darkened smoulders staining the white-pillars and tainting the pretty marble stone. Showers of black smoke emitted from the singed thrones, tattered black beyond recovery and so broken that one would almost expect the incorporeal powers of the gods to leak out of the throne like a stream of golden ichor. The Hearth in the middle was decimated, its fire extinguished, the coals pale white till the point where it was instinguishable from the broken marble stone, long past the point of recovery.

And Kronos was in the center of it all, rage apparent on his features, as he towered over the thrones with his scythe spinning in hand. With one gigantic swing he blasted half of the thrones to oblivion, and twisting the scythe over his head and with the wicked swordplay he blasted the other half to hell.

There were figures behind Kronos; a Satyr, dying but not dead, desperately trying to take cover as the Lord of Time had his wicked laugh; a girl, her face pale and white as mortal blood spewed out of her wound, and Artemis knew she was as good as dead; and a pile of reddish-gold dust where Hermes' son, Luke used to be.

When Kronos arose, the gods had all felt the impact; for that she remembered this moment as when their powers weakened like a sudden short-circuit, as they gasped for breath and ichor poured out of their wounds without mending instantly like it used to, and that was when the Titans charged and overwhelmed their forces.

And now, staring in horror at the laughing figure of Kronos; she knew he was the start of it all. She watched, in mixed horror and transfixation, as Kronos destroyed; laughed; and razed to his heart's content.

 _x_

Artemis awoke, and saw black.

Her heart raced. Grasping the Amazonian blanket in her fist at the dream of Kronos she saw, she gasped out heavy breaths until a sense of strange calm washed over her.

It was just a dream.

But the reality which it brought with was all too soon, too fast; and the sight she was blessed with in her dream had disappeared all too soon, leaving her with a bittersweet taste of something she'd never feel again, not until the afterlife.

She let out an inadvertent sigh. She would have to get used to this part.

She was in the Guests' Chamber, the room which was reserved for her by Hylla, which she'd appreciated. At least it wasn't a cell beside the godforsaken Sky in the Garden of the Hesperdies.

Her mind wandered to less disheartening subjects, and she found herself thinking about Apollo. Her brother was gathering the missing (and if not, dead) Demigods with a few trusted Amazons, and was in charge of bringing them to the Amazon Base.

She would've joined him—that is, if she worth more than the burden she posed. He'd always leave her an invitation, and she would decline. At least Apollo had his sight. He could find Demigods and at least comfort them, while she could do nothing but listen to the screams and wails.

 _Enough of this self-loathing,_ she could almost imagine her mother's scolding. _There is no time for it._

It was a busy job, and he rarely came back in time to the Base for dinner or sleep—and for the times he did, it was with a few confused Demigods and some irritated Amazons.

She wouldn't admit it out loud, but she missed her annoying brother.

She was mentally preparing herself to get out of bed when she heard a knock on the door. She barely had the time to say ''Open'' before she heard the sound of a dozen troops bursting in.

''Lady Artemis,'' a commanding voice resounded across the room. She recognised it as Hylla's. In any other ocassion, she might've been mildy irritated at the dozens of Amazonian troops bursting into her chamber without a word, but judging by the Queen's hurried tone it didn't seem to be the time.

''What is it?'' she replied simply, ignoring the Amazonian troops that would likely be staring her down, wondering what made the Queen think it would be a good idea coming here.

Breathless, she heard Hylla say: ''Percy Jackson is gone.''

 _x_

 _''What?''_

The ear-splitting question echoed through the chamber. As the words left her mouth, she regretted it. She could almost imagine the Amazons cringing at the sheer volume of the sound.

But she couldn't help it.

The last time she heard of Percy Jackson was when he had his headache in the hallways. He was writhing in obvious pain as he complained about a ''voice in his head''. After excusing himself and pinning the pain to blame, Hylla brought him into to one of their many chambers.

 _He was gone? Where could he have went?_

''One of our healers went to check up on him during the morning. When she approached his bed, she realised he was missing, and alerted all of us.'' Hylla sounded shaken, even worried.

''D-did your cameras capture anything?'' she said, retaining her posture and clearing her voice of emotion.

''I checked. Other than showing Percy leaving through the South gate of the Base, it doesn't show us anything that we don't know already.''

Artemis thought about the voice Percy complained about. She knew that gods were capable of sending a part of their consciousness into Demigods, and therefore be able to speak to them telepathically. But there were no gods that could've spoke to him—at least not in their weakened state right now.

The escaping Satyr in her dream nagged at the back of her mind. Perhaps it could've been Percy's empathy link with his Satyr friend, Grover… but that couldn't be right, either. If Percy had died when Kronos rose, that would mean that Grover would be dead too, due to their empathy link.

That would leave only one option.

Artemis cursed when the realisation settled in. It wasn't Grover's voice he heard. It was Krios's.

 _x_

After reassuring them that he was indeed okay and getting directions to his bunker room, he had left the base.

It was nothing personal. He just wished he had told them that. But Grover's voice had became loud, piercing, and he just couldn't _not_ ignore it. It was his best friend. How could he ignore that?

 _''Percy?! Percy, can you hear me? It's Grover. And you have to come, now!''_

 _Percy must've looked maniacal._

 _He was whipping his head around, eyes darting in in all directions, as he repeated his cry within his mind: Grover? Are you there?! Come on! Answer me!_

 _The Goddess of the Hunt and the Queen of Amazons stopped in their tracks. With the Amazonian Queen feigning concern and even the blind Goddess of the Hunt looking visibly alarmed, it was hard not to think that yes, he maybe went a little crazy and overreacted a little._

 _But this was his best friend Grover. The Satyr he didn't even know was alive or dead._

 _''Perce!'' the voice called again. It sounded like a mere echo in the caverns of his mind, but he still heard it. ''Come to… the 33st Street Subway Station… got no time…''_

 _He heard a bleat, and nothing._

He was visibly shaken. His eyes had widened, and after telling Hylla and Artemis that he had a headache and wanted to retire somewhere to rest, he had left his chamber once it was clear they were gone and headed up to the surface of Manhattan.

The entire city was a dizzying sight to behold. Manhattan, once bright and joyous in all its glory, was now painted a shade grey as the red skies ruled what was once Zeus' domain. Titans in both their human forms and true forms stomped through the pavement, as the real humans, no longer under Morpheus' spell, screamed and ran from the Titans.

It was a horrible sight. He only had one destination in mind, though, and that was the Subway.

Percy rounded a corner and found a bright black sign sign, with a bunch of words he had no time to discern, that was pointing down at a stairwell beneath.

He didn't even hesitate, and jumped right in.

The insides of the Subway Station was deserted. Tumbleweeds of newspaper and discarded cofffee cups rolled across the platform. Apparently, Kronos had never bothered to restore the electricity service either, because the Subway Station was only dimly lit by passive, flickering lights.

Uneasily, he called out: ''Grover? Grover, where are you?''

He didn't know what to expect, but the dark booming voice in his head instantly slammed him out of his reverie.

 _''PERSEUS JACKSON.''_ It boomed. Suddenly, he was blindsided with pain. He clutched his ears and closed his eyes to see stars exploding behind his eyelids.

The meancing voice felt like a smile. _''I NEVER THOUGHT IT WOULD BE SO EASY TO INCAPITATE YOU. LOYALTY IS SO PITIFULLY EASILY EXPLOITED.''_

 _Grover_ , he thought, admist the pain. He felt his heart plummet. It was as if someone tore his heart out, shattered it, and stuck the shattered pieces back in. _No._

'' _WHO ARE YOU!''_ Percy yelled back at the taunting voice in his head. ''SHOW YOUR FACE!''

 _''Is that so?''_ the voice felt to sneer at him. Suddenly, the Earth shook, and Percy was jarred onto his knees.

''Well. I have no need to hide,'' the voice of Krios responded, as he tested his scythe with his finger. An ounce of pure ichor dripped from it, a sphere droplet of pure gold as it shimmered against the flickering lights. ''And you have no business being alive, Perseus Jackson.''

And with that, the scythe descended.

 _x_

Percy's first thought: why did all Titans own scythes?

Percy's second thought: why do the Titans hate me so much?

Nevertheless, Percy rolled away from Krios' swift scythe, and drew Riptide from his pocket. As the Titan heaved his scythe out of the rock, Percy was an opening and pushed his sword right in; and the force of it made Krios topple back.

Sword and scythe clanged with a force that shook the Earth. Percy gritted his teeth, as he fought futilely against the Titan's scythe. Slowly but surely the Titan got the upper hand with mere strength alone. Percy could only hold Riptide over his head as a last-ditch effort as the scythe inched its way down.

Suddenly, Percy feinted left, and the Titan that was left pushing against nothing but air crashed into the ground. As the Titan recovered, Percy had rolled backwards and had his sword ready.

The classic parry resumed, with sword against scythe, might against nimbleness. After the exchange of blows, Percy found an opening and pushed his sword right in; and the force of it made Krios topple back. The Titan was too slow, too large, to overcome Percy's blows.

Percy hovered over the Titan's defeated form as he readied the final strike—but before he could, sharp pain assaulted his mind.

 _Thoughts. Memories._

 _''Try and catch me, Seaweed Brain!'' Annabeth's laughter was unmistakably clear as he ran after his girlfriend._

 _''Percy, try some Enchilada!'' Grover bleated, as he pushed a plate of sweet-smelling Enchilada at his face._

 _''Hey Percy, want to see my art?'' Rachel Dare's wink was clear, as his face coloured red._

 _Suddenly, the images morphed._

 _Rachel Dare, drawing art in her studio, an image of Olympus streaked cold and grey._

 _''You're not the hero, Percy.''_

 _Grover, being picked on by bullies because of his limp._

 _''Help me, Percy! Heeelp—!''_

 _Annabeth, her face shrivelled and grey._

 _''Why did you let us die?''_

 _Thoughts. Memories._

 _That's all that we're made of, isn't it?_

Letting out a cry, Percy fell back—and admist his jarring vision he could see Krios getting up, a crooked smile on his face.

''You see, Percy…'' he mused. ''We Titans have powers. And although we can choose to, _ah, play your game,_ it is not a _necessity.''_

 _Cries echoed in his mind._

 _''Why did you kill us?'' Travis' face was forlon, mischief long gone, as the pool of the dead swirlled in his head._

 _''What did I sacrifice myself for?'' Silena Beauregard's crying face arose admist the echoes in his mind._

 _''Why—did—you—lose?!'' Clarisse's anger; Chris's sadness; Charles' Beckendorf's determination; Micheal Yew's fear; Pollux's resolve—_

 _All wasted. All gone._

Already the pain was getting worse. Spots danced in his vision, and he began to feel numb. Memories, _vivid memories_ flashed in his mind… memories of his friends, memories of Grover, and memories of Annabeth. _Annabeth._ But it was all so tainted and twisted and _wrong,_ and he let out a stilled scream.

''You see…'' Krios began, his voice muddy in his mind. Loud steps reverbrated off the floors and into his screaming ears; as the hilt of the scythe got closer and closer.

''I'm the Titan of the Stars. There was a time when everyone believed that souls resided within the Sky—and what happens when you imagine your dead relatives in the Stars? Memories,'' he chuckled. ''They emerge fondly. Wistfully. And I have the power to warp them.''

He chuckled, again, louder this time. ''I can give people 'memory seziures', so to speak.'' A haughty grin passed his face. ''Most victims die after hours of agonizing pain. In Tartarus at least… where they reform and the whole proccess repeats again. I wonder how long you'll last…'' he smiled slightly. ''Have fun with your memories, Perseus.''

He felt the ground reverbrate as the Titan sauntered towards him. In the bottom of the scythe was emblazoned a a fiery hammer, streaked in red. _Hephaestus' logo?_ Percy didn't have time to think before the butt of the Scythe slammed itself into the back of his head. Admist the blinding stars and the roar of blood in his ears, he struggled to his feet.

''FIGHT ME!'' the Titan laughed, all too gleefully. ''FIGHT ME!''

Percy's mouth was caked with blood. With the last of his willpower, he willed for the water to rise, to save, to _heal_ him…

Suddenly, an arc of silver soared over his head. He followed the light; and saw Krios' wide eyes, his expression stunned, a word that never formed when a single silver arrow pinned his tongue.

* * *

 **A/N:** So what do you think? Sorry it took a bit longer to post this chapter!

I'd like to thank **Namewhyte** for the review, I really appreciate your support and I hope you continue to read this story ^^

I'd like to give you all a shoutout: ASSASSIN OF ARTEMIS, Caboosse137, Eguan, Ihavenolife2015, ImHellaUgly, Jacksoncanread, Ajacks1996, KnightGalavant, RareDarkgon, Gyltig, Red the Pokemon Master, Lula23, Pegasus1200, I'm the stranger, The God of Darkness and Ice, kratos1991, Ronnie R15, certius, budhayes, dakotafillnow, king andos, woowiwong, Artemis the Great, mnp1689, TheMag1c1an and JARGONS for your continuous support for this story.


	7. Scepters and Suspicions

_Artemis,_ Percy thought as he saw the surprised Titan, with a silver arrow in his mouth, as he backed away into the railways.

Krios tried to let out a guttural laugh, and tried to curse under his breath—but all that came out was gurgles as his huge hands swiped for the arrow that impaled his tongue shut.

Then, a volley of arrows was released. And another still. And after that, another again until the Maiden Goddess had exhausted all her arrows in the quiver.

Most of the arrows landed short, or only near Krios, but a large amount found its mark. Krios looked like a silver porcupine. After a mask of shock, the Titan fell back into the railways and dissolved into dust.

''Percy…'' Artemis stated, annoyance clear in her voice. ''What did I tell you about leaving the base?''

Percy didn't respond, but his eyes were trained onto the spot where Krios fell.

Warily, Percy approached the railways, where the Titan had fallen. With Artemis following behind him, he jumped down into the railroads, and hit the rails with a clang, as he approached the remains of Krios' dust.

In the midst of the dust, he saw a glittering, pale stick. Wiping away some of the dust with his foot from the pale stick, his eyes narrowed once he recognized the stick… _no, scepter_.

''Percy?'' But a moment later, she seemed to have realized that Percy wasn't responding. Fear edged at her voice. ''… what is it?''

''N—nothing.'' His voice was hoarse as he picked up the divine object. It shone pale-gold, its insignia reflecting his face amid the flickering lights. ''Well, uh, I think we found Hera's scepter.''

* * *

They got back safely.

After a few typical medical checkups, the obvious, well, _taking_ of Hera's scepter (Why couldn't he ever keep any divine objects? Even if it was for humiliation's sake?) and _''no, I have not encountered nor ate any mysterious dusts,''_ protocol, Percy found himself in the dining hall. Which was weird, since he expected some of that ''He's injured! Get him to the infirmary!'' stuff, but apparently not.

Percy guessed that the Amazons decided that taking on one of the Titans of the Four Corners were just one in all of a day's work. Which was fair by him. After all, it wasn't as if he was accused of stealing the Master Bolt, encountered Hades, returned the items of the gods and injured Ares in a week.

Anyway.

Artemis had excused herself after the checkups and returned to her quarters, and Percy didn't blame her. Really. She had probably fulfilled her ''save-a-man'' quota for the millennia.

However, Percy wondered how Artemis could shoot so well. Wasn't it just a day before when her arrow arced over the Amazons, missing them by a mile? And with the blindness thing and all, he wasn't entirely how she could practically _take down the Titan of the Stars_ in a few minutes. Maybe Artemis practiced blindfolded Archery in her spare time.

Anyway, Percy found himself dining with a bunch of Amazons. Rumors fired around like wildfire, and Percy couldn't help but overhear some of them.

''I heard Hylla found a new Titan insider!'' He heard a passing Amazon squeal. Percy almost coughed out his water in surprise. Just _when_ did Amazons _squeal_?

''Wonder who it is!'' Another replied enthusiastically. Percy worked on keeping his drink _inside of_ his mouth, and tried not to picture neither the Amazons from Themyscira or those facing him right now _squealing_. Nope. Not gonna happen.

''Think it's fake news, though,'' he heard a more-composed Amazon say. At least this one wasn't squealing. ''I mean, who teams up with a _Titan?!''_

''Oh, have you heard about what happened to Lady Artemis and Apollo when they were captured by Kronos?!'' He heard a sigh come from the Amazon. ''Now that is some worthy gossip right there.''

''Do tell!'' Another said. Percy suddenly felt a gnawing interest in their conversation, and not just because of the gossip.

Before he knew it, he interrupted their conversation. ''Wait. What happened?''

He remembered the basics of what Artemis had told him—which was that Kronos rose, that he destroyed the gods' thrones, and that she and Apollo escaped… but how? And _why_ did they escape? Well, that part was obvious, but why was it only them that escaped and not the others? And why was Hestia still alive, and more or less well?

A few of the Amazons looked at him warily, but the Amazon that brought of the Artemis and Apollo thing began babbling without a seeming stop.

''So Apollo and Lady Artemis were captured by Kronos, right.'' She stared at Percy straight in the eye, as if she was silently judging him and his knowledge, before continuing. ''They were brought to the Garden of the Hesperides, along with the other gods, 'cept the Big Three and some others, but you know that.''

A pause. The Amazon's eyes darted warily from left to right, as if she was afraid some sort of spy was overhearing their conversation. ''They were trapped and underfed and forced to take turns holding up the Sky, you know, all of that! One day a Titan or a Giant or something, whatever, basically took pity on them and freed them from their bonds. They almost snuck out of the Garden— _keyword, almost_ —and unfortunately, Kronos found out.''

At this, all of the Amazons groaned. The Amazon telling the tale swallowed, as if this part of the story was physically difficult for her to tell. ''Kronos thought they'd gotten free all by themselves of course, so after a diss party between Apollo and Kronos—'' at this part, the Amazonian's eyes sparkled with fire, as if they too wished that they had joined in the '' _diss battle''_ , ''—but alas, Kronos grew tired of it and issued an order to show _what happens if you decide to overthrow him.''_

At this, the Amazon let out a slow, long sigh. ''Basically, Kronos removed Artemis' sight and Apollo's hearing as an example for the people. It was also a precaution, apparently, so they couldn't conspire ever again. After that's said and done.''

Percy furrowed a brow at the Amazon. ''Uh, not to be direct, but do you know why Artemis can shoot so well… y'know, despite…'' he trailed off, hoping the Amazon understood his question.

The Amazon made an ''o'' with her mouth. ''… have you heard of the myth of Artemis and Orion?''

Percy nodded slightly, unsure of where she was getting at.

''Well, once upon a time, there was a Hunter.'' Her voice grew serious. ''His name was Orion. After an unfortunate, _well_ , incident, he was blinded by the King of Chios. However, with the help of Hephaestus, he soon gained his sight back, and soon resumed his Hunting duties and alike. It was there he met Artemis.''

Percy nodded slightly. ''And…?'' He really wasn't sure how this was relevant to his question, about how Artemis could shoot well despite her sightlessness. He _had_ heard of this Orion-person, whoever he was, while he and Annabeth discussed about myths. He felt a pang in his chest at her name.

 _Damn,_ he thought. _It's never gonna stop hurting, is it?_

He tried to steer his mind back to Orion. Apparently, he was this Hunter that ended up winning Artemis' heart. Well, until Apollo got jealous about the amount of time the Hunter was spending with his sister, and so he tricked Artemis into shooting Orion. From what he knew, Artemis was pissed, vengeful, and depressed at the same time, so after emblazoning Orion in the stars, she decided to hunt Apollo down.

Wow. And he thought having had Gabe in his family was bad enough.

The Amazon took a deep breath, unaware of his slow blinking. ''After Apollo was crowned the God of the Sun, Artemis was momentarily blinded by Apollo's rays.''

 _Surprised_ was the least-descriptive word he could use to describe what he felt right now, but it was the only one he could think of. _Blinded? Why wasn't this in the myths?_

The Amazon cleared her throat at Percy's disbelieving glance. ''And before you ask, no, no one is sure why. Anyways, Artemis ended up meeting Orion. He taught her how he hunted despite being blind, and she learned and nurtured her skills from there. It's how she manages to shoot despite her current, uh, _condition_ , I think.''

''Ahem.'' All heads turned towards the Goddess of the Hunt, standing at the entrance of the dining room. The Amazon that recounted the tale let out a not-so-subtle gulp and with a quick excuse, hurried her way towards another part of the dining room.

Artemis ignored the Amazon. Percy himself swallowed, and felt a sickening feeling to his stomach. He didn't know how much Artemis heard, and he wasn't sure if he _wanted to know._ After all, Artemis could still easily turn himself into a jackalope if she wanted to. And the subjects he and the Amazon discussed were probably… rather _personal subjects_ that she'd probably turn anyone into a jackalope _for,_ so…

Why was he rambling?

''Come, Perseus,'' Artemis beckoned. ''Hylla wants to see you.''

* * *

Percy entered the Throne Room.

The room was empty and barren, save for some relics here and there. Percy cautiously edged into the room and faced the throne where Hylla sat. Startled, he realized that it was the first time he saw the queen sit on her throne.

She was toying with Hera's scepter, twirling it like a torpedo between her fingers. Percy wondered what Hera would say if she saw the scene.

Upon noticing him, the twirling abruptly stopped. A slight frown on her face, she stood from her throne. Percy awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. ''So… you called?''

''Right.'' Hylla snapped her fingers and pressed the symbol on the scepter. For one long, awkward moment, Percy waited. Nothing happened. He began to wonder what had gotten into the Queen of the Amazons, until an Iris-Message grew from the scepter, glimmering darkly in the face of a red, ravaged words. In the message was Hera's face, large, pale and frightened.

Usually, Percy would've enjoyed the moment he saw Hera, the goddess of Family and annoyance to all truly freaked out, but this time he knew it was no joke.

''I should've never trusted that upstart Jackson,'' the illusion of Hera in the Iris-Message growled to nobody in particular.

''Umm…'' Percy muttered, unsure of what to say.

''It's a feedback loop,'' the Amazonian Queen said swiftly, addressing Percy's queries. ''Not a direct message.''

The Iris-Message Hera still seemed pissed. ''But I have to put down my prejudice… _for now._ The gods have asked me to be their Messenger, although I do believe that Hermes would be better-suited for the role. We need the Demigods to find our godly weapons, which we used our essences to hide and scatter throughout the world. Since you are receiving this message,'' Hera hurriedly glanced back, and to the Iris-Message again: ''—we can assume you'll know where to find it. Only then with the power of the Twelve Olympians will you be able to stand a chance against defeating the Titans.'' The message began to flicker. ''And—'' a screech, ''— _wait! I'm not done—''_ a gigantic blast and a yelp was heard, ''— _no_ … about the Great Prophecy… _it's_ _not what you—''_

Then, the message abruptly disconnected.

''Wow,'' Percy breathed out. ''Okay.''

''So, for starters…'' Hylla said, eying the Demigod warily. ''Why don't we try and share everything we've got?''

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the shorter chapter! I'd like to thank **son of Ophion** , **Ash** , **Guest,** **Random Useless Info** and **TheDragon12** for your reviews—they keep me motivated and ready to write! :)


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